tears then chearful? Alas, he weeps! Speak to him
Charlotte: I have no tongue to ask him questions.

_Char._ How does your master, Jarvis?

_Jar._ I am old and foolish, madam; and tears will come before my
words--But don't You weep. (_To Mrs. Beverley._) I have a tale of
joy for you.

_Mrs. Bev._ What tale? Say but he's well, and I have joy enough.

_Jar._ His mind too shall be well; all shalt be well--I have news
for him that shall make his poor heart bound again!--Fie upon old
age! how childish it makes me! I have a tale of joy for you, and my
tears drown it.

_Char._ Shed them in showers then, and make haste to tell it.

_Mrs. Bev._ What is it, Jarvis?

_Jar._ Yet why should I rejoice when a good man dies? Your uncle,
madam, died yesterday.

_Mrs. Bev._ My uncle!--O heavens!

_Char._ How heard you of his death?

_Jar._ His steward came express, madam: I met him in the street,
enquiring for your lodgings. I should not rejoice, perhaps; but he
was old, and my poor master a prisoner--Now he shall live again--O,
'tis a brave fortune! and 'twas death to me to see him a prisoner.

_Char._ Where left you the steward?

_Jar._ I would not bring him hither, to be a witness of your
distresses--and besides, I wanted once before I die, to be the
messenger of joy t'you. My good master will be a man again.

_Mrs. Bev._ Haste, haste then; and let us fly to him!--We are
delaying our own happiness.

_Jar._ I had forgot a coach, madam; and Lucy has ordered one.

_Mrs. Bev._ Where was the need of that? The news has given me wings.

_Char._ I have no joy, till my poor brother shares it with me. How
did he pass the night, Jarvis?

_Jar._ Why now, madam, I can tell you. Like a man dreaming of death
and horrors. When they led him to his cell--for 'twas a poor
apartment for my master--he flung himself upon a wretched bed, and
lay speechless till day-break. A sigh now and then, and a few tears
that followed those sighs, were all that told me he was alive.
I spoke to him, but he would not hear me; and when I persisted, he
raised his hand at me, and knit his brow so--I thought he would have
struck me.

_Mrs. Bev._ O miserable! But what said he, Jarvis? Or was he silent
all night?

_Jar._ At day-break he started from the bed, and looking wildly at
me, asked who I was. I told him, and bid him be of comfort--Begone,
old wretch, says he--I have sworn never to know comfort--My wife! my
child! my sister! I have undone them a